


Unspoken Rules

by Anchan (Anchan_thevolleyballplayer)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: A somewhat late birthday fic for Jisung, Coming In Pants, Grinding, Jealousy, M/M, Voyeurism, might delete later, not much to tag, or expand, sorry changbin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchan_thevolleyballplayer/pseuds/Anchan
Summary: “Until he admits that he cares,” he insists, eyes locking with Minho’s, whose gaze drops to the sheets and then travel to the further corner of the room. His brows are furrowed, an expression that has hardly shifted since Changbin started pleasuring his front.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Unspoken Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Take this as my revenge on the Voyeurism prompt from @minsungbingo.   
> I’m not that big on kinks, and I only have their meanings somehow memorised. When I was looking back on the Voyeurism definition, it occurred to me that I slightly changed its meaning – and maybe that counts into the kink, but I still wanted to write this as a second take. 
> 
> Don't really expect me to write too many Explicit things, as I'm much more interested in writing PG stuff, but there may be some more to come.

Jisung bends forward, sticking his hips into the air for Changbin to grind on. There’s a moan of Minho’s name on his lips but he bites it back, instead whimpering out a silent _please_ that has Changbin grunting.

The elder’s hips slide against his hole insistently, strong hands caressing his hips making him shiver. It takes all his willpower to raise himself to his full height, leaning back into Changbin’s chest for support, his other hand gripping the wall. 

The press of their hips feels even better like this. So nice.

His pants are too tight over his abdomen and he reaches down to palm himself through the leather, enjoying the way the fabric rubs against him. But if he’s being honest, he enjoys the pair of eyes that are watching his every move way more. 

The way Minho bites his lip and squirms in his seat at the sight of Jisung being pleased.

There’s a glint of restraint in Minho’s eyes, hands finding comfort in squeezing his thighs instead of reaching out to attach to Jisung’s body. His lips are swollen from biting, and Jisung would lie if he didn’t want them pressed against his skin.

Not right now, not until he proves his point. And because he knows that letting Minho in centres everything around the dancer, he can’t let that happen yet. He wants to enjoy this – maybe for the last time, so Minho must wait.

Changbin’s hand joins him on his strained cock, fingers lacing together as he squeezes his bulge through the material. Jisung doesn’t muffle his moan. Minho flinches on the other side of the bed, eyes trained on Jisung’s face.

Unable to stop himself, Jisung smirks. And then winks. Because he can, because Minho knows to behave and because he absolutely melts in the despaired grimace that blooms on Minho’s face right after.

Changbin’s hands travel up his body, lifting his shirt up when instructed, dragging it up slowly. Jisung absolutely loves the way his palms drag across his chest firmly – Minho absolutely hates that he’s not the one touching him. Even if he might not want to admit it, yet.

A pair of lips warm the spot right under his ear, and he can hear Changbin huff. No words come out of his mouth, yet he knows exactly what he’s asking: _How long should we continue this?_

He understands being nervous, maybe a little reluctant – they’ve had this talk before agreeing on putting a show. Jisung wouldn’t push him into such kinks, though he can’t hide his own excitement about trying out new things. But he’s not doing this for himself, nor for Changbin…

“Until he admits that he cares,” he insists, eyes locking with Minho’s, whose gaze drops to the sheets and then travel to the further corner of the room. His brows are furrowed, an expression that has hardly shifted since Changbin started pleasuring his front.

They all know that it just means denial, to his own feelings. There’s been a time before when Minho pushed him against a wall in arousal – a moment neither of them talks about yet they both know they’ve enjoyed it.

A little too much, considering Minho isn’t even Jisung’s usual fling. But there are no regrets since he’s not a thing with Changbin either. They just mess around, and now he’s messed around with Minho too. The only difference is that Minho won’t admit to it.

Jisung won’t let that slide.

“Continue baby, let him submit,” he mumbles, grinding back on Changbin’s cock until the older snaps and bends him forward. He hits the mattress with a soft thud, arms stretching in front of him until he reaches Minho’s knees.

Minho promptly avoids his touch, spreading his knees in the process. His cheeks give him away too easily – he can’t keep it in his pants for long, that’s for sure.

“That’s not nice,” Changbin mumbles, undoing his pants to yank them down to his knees, so he can slide against Jisung’s underwear. Jisung moans contently, keeping his eyes open even when his eyelids drop dangerously low; he wants to see Minho’s face. He wants to see him fall apart.

He keeps his voice purposefully low, hoping to lace it with enough honey when he drags his words out, “No being soft for boys who don’t behave.”

Minho snickers, letting the atmosphere falter a little. “I’m not into that, sorry babe.”

“And yet you called me a babe just now. Feels like I’m winning you over already,” Jisung teases back, lips stretching in a lazy smile. “Be a good boy and come show me your love?”

“You won’t let me,” Minho shakes his head, hands now locking under his thighs, pressed between those and his calves in an attempt to keep them still. Good luck with tucking the bulge in his pants away, too.

It’s too tempting to not reach forward, and so Jisung does just that, disconnecting himself from Changbin for a spare second to hover his mouth over Minho’s crotch. He’s been there once; they both remember. Minho’s breath hitches and it takes all his strength to not fall forward, burying himself in Minho’s heat.

Maybe next time.

“That’s not true, kitten. You just need to say the magical words,” Jisung disagrees. “That or you’ll have to come untouched – don’t make that face, you’re aroused.”

Minho doesn’t say anything, squirming his hips when his eyes accidentally travel up Jisung’s body and towards where Changbin meets his ass…

And that’s when an idea comes to Jisung’s mind like a spark.

He lifts himself up, motioning Changbin to sit back, mirroring Minho’s position on the other side of the bed. It feels nice to push his hips down onto him, sitting up again to discard his shirt. He tosses it over to Minho who catches it, then sends him a questioning look. Expectation.

“Sit back and enjoy,” he says, and grinds down. Changbin grunts loud enough to be heard, hands coming up to grip his circling hips. Minho’s throat bobs as he swallows, and though it makes no sound, it’s just as loud to Jisung’s ears.

Dragging his hips down feels like heaven, pressing Changbin against his hole and feeling him twitch. He’s not sure if there’s a pattern to follow but as long as it feels good, he lets himself get lost in the movement, rather focusing on exposing his chest to his audience.

Minho’s gaze is locked on him, the way his body moves – his eyes leave a tingling warmth everywhere they look. He knows the sensation of his touch would feel thousand times better. He wants that. So much.

It’s Minho’s fingers he imagines teasing his chest, stroking his skin, eliciting small gasps and moans from his lips. Some of them slip, others are spoken with an intent, calling Minho’s name softly to make him _feel_.

Let Minho know what thinking about him does to him, even if they’re just a game. And maybe that’s why it matters, after all. Minho is more than a fling, at least should be in Jisung’s eyes. Damn, he would do anything to achieve that.

_Minho,_ his lips form his name without permission, and soon he’s falling forward as if his body wanted to chase after the other. Minho seems to understand because he reaches forward to capture Jisung in his arms.

And only then Jisung feels all the warmth. The way his body melts against Minho’s chest, the way his lips fit perfectly with Minho’s when he lifts his head and connects them. The way Minho kisses back instinctively, then travels his hands up Jisung’s body.

It feels heavenly and more than that. He _wants_ Minho – like this, falling apart in his arms, but also in any other way possible.

There’s no time to think about those when Minho helps him sit up, back pressing against Changbin’s chest like before. But it’s different all along; this time, Changbin stays still, letting Minho take the lead, only holding Jisung in place.

Minho’s hands are everywhere, playing with his chest, stroking his sides and thighs, and making him feel like he’s touched by clouds. Then come his lips, pressing against his skin. Kisses bloom all across his chest and cheeks – that’s as far as Minho gets before Jisung hungrily attaches to them. The older doesn’t mind this change of plans.

It doesn’t occur to him when his hips soak wet, nor when Changbin stops moving underneath him. He can’t be blamed though, not when Minho plays all his strings right, giving him everything he needs.

Jisung barely registers when Minho lifts him up, carefully moving him to straddle his hips. His fingers are tangled in Minho’s locks, mind too concentrated on the way their tongues slide together, and bodies press together in all the right places.

His hips are stuttering, not far from reaching his high – and that’s fine, that’s much more than fine because now, he’s one with Minho, and that’s all that his brain can comprehend.

He _wants_ this, wants him and Minho wants him in return. That was the deal; and though Jisung made it with himself only, when Minho moves along and kisses his neck, he knows the older means it too.

And then comes a whimper, one that leaves Minho’s lips instead of his. He’s been quiet until now, but he’s reached his limit, and soon, words are spilling past his lips and into Jisung’s mouth. He doesn’t understand what they mean, swallows them up as they are.

They all taste sweet.

“I want you,” is the first one coherent enough to make out. Also the last one as they throw Jisung past his edge, his own cries of pleasure muffling everything Minho would have said next.

But that’s okay, because Minho’s hips are stuttering, hands gripping his thighs tightly through his own high. Then letting go to wrap around Jisung’s middle when he lies them back, falling against the younger’s chest in content.

The bed is empty when Jisung opens his eyes again, spare for Minho covering him like a blanket, shielding him from the cold air. A pang of guilt kicks him in the guts when he remembers Changbin – yet the feeling can’t stay long, not when his eyes fall upon Minho.

The older is asleep, his features soft and a small smile is playing on his lips. Jisung would almost say it’s just a normal morning for them, after spending the night talking. Except they’re almost naked, and the stickiness in their underwear tells a different story.

One that Jisung will surely remember.


End file.
